While most members of the nobility were buzzing with anticipation over the events of the evening, Danae was less than thrilled, to say the very least. After all, it was no secret in the Stravosi household that the youngest daughter never found joy in pretending to like the court. She never did and she doubted that would change. The girl hated the fakery behind all of it. She disliked needing to remember to play nice and smile when she would much rather prefer to claw out her own eyes. She hated being social like this. She couldn’t stand the thought of needing to act like a lady who was perfectly sweet and innocent and just oh so over-fecking-joyed to be there.
“Quit it Dani. You look so miserable.” A voice hissed her ear as the young noble woman walked into the event, trailing behind her mother and sister, who both actually wanted to be a part of the festivities. The girl looked up to see the annoyed expression of Chara who seemingly couldn’t grasp why her little sister didn’t want to be there.
“I am miserable.” She angrily retorted as a knee-jerk reaction. She was careful to hold her tongue when it came to the reasons why she hated the court. It made her feel insecure. She hated acting. The people were intolerable. Danae could go on and on as to the numerous “unfathomable” reasons why she just wanted to go home.
However, neither Chara or Circenia were interested in hearing it as the older one rolled her eyes and their mother glanced over at her with daggers shooting at the both of them. That was enough to force Chara to back off of her sister, but it did very little to quell Danae’s frustrations, even going as far as to decide for her to shoot a glare at her mother.
That wasn’t a smart thing to do as Circenia didn’t respond to her daughter’s reactions, but instead merely turned away before leading the two of them to the main event and immediately whispered in Chara’s ear and pulled her away from Danae to let her youngest daughter flounder on her own as punishment for her disrespect.
A bubble of panic, momentarily quelling her anger, rose up in Danae as the two of them walked off and Danae lost track of them in the crowd. “Mother?” She instinctively called out after them, but it was too late. As different as they were, Circenia knew Danae well enough to know the real reason behind her seemingly unrelenting rage. It was a coping mechanism for her anxiety.
Danae was so insecure and hated herself so much during these events as she was forced to compare her plainness to the near divine looks of the rest of her family, that she became a bubble of rage so she could shield herself from her other emotions. She became angry and bitchy to push the world away. Danae did it to protect herself from the comparisons, to the unwanted attention, and from the people who would make her feel utterly worthless.
It was what kept her safe. It’s what kept her sane.
Her mother knew this and she knew that if her daughter was left alone for just a little bit so that these insecurities would fester and take hold, her anger would subside for the nervousness and make her more tolerable for the rest of the night. It was tough love at it’s finest, but Danae knew it worked.
Feeling as if every eye was upon her, Danae scurried towards the edges of the room, her scarlett red chiton with golden accents flowing with each step. Once she made it there, she positioned herself in a way that she could see the whole of the room and keep an eye out for anyone who would be approaching her… like this one girl just did.
“Thanks,” She said dryly in response to Iris’s compliment about her dress.It was clear that the other noblewoman was just as nervous as Danae was, though it was probably for different reasons. Danae was about to give the other girl a compliment about her chiton when Danae noticed that another guest had to decided to join them.
And of course, it just had to be no other than her dearest cousin.
Danae internally groaned as the princess walked over and made a snide comment about the Stravosi being on her own. Are you really that thick in the head? The girl silently thought to herself as her anger bubbled within her, but she managed to hold her composure long enough to give a basic, curt response.
“My mother and Chara are here, Emilia.” Danae deadpanned with one of her signature blank expressions that managed to convey all her thoughts about how ridiculously stupid the princess was being right now. Of course, she wasn’t here alone. Why on earth would Danae willingly come here on her own? She hated events like this and she knew that neither girl could tolerate each other after their skirmish in the library. “They wouldn’t this for the world”
Seemingly this was enough to satisfy both women as they disappeared back into the crowd and left to Danae’s nervous relief. Thank god. Hopefully, with a little luck she wouldn’t have to deal with cousin dearest for the rest of the evening.
As her eyes flickered around the room, they landed on one familiar face that Danae was quite surprised to see there. Her insatiable curiosity mixed with her previous relief overrode all of her other emotions and led Danae to cross over to the husband and wife duo. “Lord Cyrus,” she said with a light laugh once she reached the pair, “You really defy all of our expectations, don’t you?” This of course was both in reference to the Lord’s appearance at the court and the Stravos manor though she doubted anyone besides the two of them would understand the last bit as no one else had been around to hear what the two of them discussed.
“And I take this is the Lady of Karsalis?” Danae said, running almost mechanically as she went through the greetings that had been drilled into her from when she was little, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Glancing between the two of them, she dropped her voice a bit so only the three of them would hear what she said next, “Our previous conversation was rather, enlightening Lord Cyrus. Confusing, but enlightening nevertheless. I have yet to decipher your final riddle though.
Vilmar shifted in his armor as the day wore on and his muscles began to endure more time under the weight. The various events of the soon to be Queen made him have a full schedule. She whisked from place to place and her entourage along with her. Vilmar had not seen any real danger beyond a few spectacles. He still kept his wits firmly about him in all situations, even feats, and celebrations. A hidden blade was just as capable as a drawn sword. Sapphire eyes combed over the grounds and the patrons alike.
The patrons arrived one by one, and Vilmar only knew them by the vague distinction of titles or house names he had heard. Some were of more importance than others, but Persephone seemed to greet all of them in turn. The Princess wove alliances, discussions, and graces all with equal skill. It was impressive to watch, although Vilmar felt a bit out of his element. He supposed his presence displayed her house's strength. In that regard, he did his best to remain a symbol of what made the city great.
He did notice one form that graced the hall. Vilmar met Lady Iris previously during a game at the Temple. It had been a brief meeting, but one that held significance to him. He had never met anyone like Iris before, and she continued to stay on his mind. She looked quite stunning, and he did his best not to stare. He decided to rotate his position a bit closer to avoid his legs becoming too stiff from standing in one spot.
It was then that Vilmar's ears picked something up, and it was not something related to the Princess. He heard a rumor of Lady Iris and a Lord. The whisper was quite foul, which he supposed was suspected of gossip. Vilmar had to admit a tinge of something inside of him. A bit of question, and perhaps a slight sliver of doubt. He did not know Iris, but she seemed a virtuous woman. Vilmar decided he had to see the center of this rumor for himself.
He noticed Persephone was speaking to the Lord in question, Rafail. The man seemed to be a typical noble from what Vilmar could see. His features polished, and his mannerism comfortable in such lavish surroundings. The way Lord Rafail and Lady Iris acted around each other was odd, one of distance. It made him wonder more if something had happened. The doubt faded, and a mixture of jealousy replaced it. A dash of anger bubbling on top of it.
Did this Lord think he could show such arrogance without action? Vilmar clenched a fist at the thought. He did not act upon it though; he knew his station. Vilmar knew that if he punched the man, it would reflect on the Royal Family and the city itself in a poor manner. He would not let his violence control him, but it did make him glare at the man from behind his helmet. He was pleased to see Persephone turn her attention to Iris.
For Iris to become the sudden interest of Princess Persephone and Princess Emilia...
The noble was humbled, immediately falling into a respectful bow before bringing herself back up to stand straight. Attentive. Were she not knowledgeable of how to school her features, her cheeks may even have flushed. It was bad enough that some of the rumors running around were about her, but it was even worse that the Princesses had likely heard the whispers on their own.
Iris resisted the urge to fix her gaze back on Rafiel, silently willing Hades to strike him down out of nowhere. That might have made Iris the most happy she had ever been. Instead, she remained fixated on the two who called her attention. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the armor of a man she had met just once before. A sense of dread filled her and she quelled her thoughts of actually killing Rafail, listening to Persephone speak.
The compliment on her gown was not lost on her, her heart racing slightly. This chiton had been her mother's. She had found it in her mother's things when she was a child and simply taken it. The first time she had worn it, she had seen the look on her father's face, as if he was seeing a ghost. Then Takis has simply smiled and nodded approvingly, never saying a word about her using her mother's clothes. In fact, much of her own attire had been her mothers and not her own before Iris had chosen to take the pieces.
Any time Takis saw her wear one, he seemed to smile just a little more.
"Thank you, your majesty. My father and I arrived in the city a few days ago. We are to take up residence in our manor for an unspecific amount of time," Iris admitted, alluding to the idea that she would begin to attend court more often. "My father sends his apologies for his absence, my lady," Iris had turned her attention to Emilia. "He has much to prepare prior to the feast and the next senate meeting. He assures me he will try to attend the next court session should time permit," she continued quietly, giving a small smile.
Turning her attention back to Persephone, "I might deign to request a private audience with her ladyship after the feast," Iris offered softly, "Writing letters would appear to be redundant at this point."
Ignoring the rumours that circulated around the court was a trait and habit that Persephone had perfected over many years. You could not, her mother had always said, choose what people said regarding your character, appearance or even existence. The only thing you had control of was how you reacted to it.
As such, Persephone simply smiled demurely and continued her conversation with the Lady Iris, as if she had suddenly become deaf and heard not the common and vulgar whispers meandering through the crowd about the both of them. It was this behaviour that she was strict upon as she could her sister's eye, silently encouraging her to do the same.
When the Lady Iris commented on speaking with Persephone after the Feast of Sinners the following day, Persephone's little smile of politeness turned into one of genuine friendliness.
"But of course, Lady Iris." She said kindly. "I'll instruct my scribe to send you a message when an available day if that would suit your schedule?"
Focused on the women before her and the plans she was making with them - combined with the fact that Persephone was no action-driven woman nor possessed military reflexes - Persephone was not only deaf to the rumours muttered across the room but also blind to the man behind her.
Several steps away but moving closer in a steady manner so as not to draw attention, he wore the livery of a Xanthos servant, though it was clear where his loyalties truly lie as he approached the eldest princess with an air of purpose, uncloaking a knife from inside his tunic...
Vilmar kept his neck pivoting about the room as Lady Persephone and Lady Iris shared conversation with one another. Sapphire eyes glanced at the various patrons around, the usual fanfare of nobles. A few whispers as the circles gathered to discuss the various political events and life of the city. Vilmar let go his frustration at rumors, as he had no way of dispersing them. He was pleased to see that the Queen was assisting Lady Iris. He always kept one hand on the hilt of his sword, just in case.
In time past Princess Persephone had chosen him among other warriors for his position. She did not select him for him for his strength or speed, but for his warrior spirit. The furnace of fury that raged silently behind the oceans of his eyes. Vilmar had tapped into it multiple times in his military experience. A spark he embraced when the situation called for it. He left behind his emotion, his doubts, and the concerns that whispered in his mind. Each time he dipped into the pool of his fury the more natural it became. He focused only on the mission before him and embraced the violence to come. There was no point retreating from it. A warriors death was one forged in battle.
Vilmar knew most of the retainers and servants the Princess hired. In an event such as this additional staff were not atypical, but he had made a note of all other servants. Vilmar had never been good with names but faces Vilmar could recall with more ease. He nodded as he scanned the crowded and marked the ones that were familiar. Vilmar paused as he noticed a new face, his fingers tapped the side of his sword handle. Something had changed, something was happening.
The world around him faded away. The voices of the crowd grew distant in his mind. They became only murmurs as his vision and focus sharpened. The fog that clouded his mind broke apart to allow him to surge forth into the present. His eyes narrowed on the man that had appeared before him.
A flash of steel was all Vilmar required to act. He recognized the weapon as Vilmar's hand pulled his sword free from its sheath. The rage surged forth from behind his eyes. His height allowed him to stride beyond the reach of most men. In an instant, he was in front of the Princess. One foot forward to allow him to pivot into his swing. His hips twisted as his sword thrust forward. His armored breastplate glimmered against the light around them. Vilmar's right arm flexed as the blade came forward aiming for his opponent's chest.
The neck would have provided a killing blow, but the chest contained a broader target. Vilmar's goal was to protect the Princess, and that meant keeping her away from the assailant. If the wound did not kill the man, it would slow him. That would allow Vilmar the advantage, or time for the Princesses to escape. There was no hesitation as Vilmar moved forward, he intended to kill the man.
The room went from calm chatter and the usual burbling noise of discussion to screams and cries of shot in but an instant.
While quick of mind and sharp of wit, Persephone was not a woman with speedy reflexes or a military trained eye and, as such, was shocked as action started to happen around her.
She noted a jostling sound coming from behind; the sound of Vilmar making his way past the few people he had allowed to get between herself and he (a perfectly reasonable distance for a bodyguard to keep). Then there was the sound of a cry and the keening noise of metal - again, this came from Vilmar though Persephone did not know it and it was only as she spun around from the noise and yells of the courtiers immediately surrounding her that she noted her bodyguard stepping forward, his blade naked and his eyes on fire.
With three hasty steps back that almost ended in her tripping over her gown - thank goodness it was a shorter design on that day - Persephone instinctively grabbed a hold of her sister and the Lady Iris, her grip none too gentle, as she dragged them both out of the way of danger.
The room was suddenly all aflurry with women's brightly coloured chitons as the few men in the room chivalrously moved the ladies out of range, or the ladies themselves hurried back their sleeves and gowns flying like wings.
The room might have been loud with exclamations of surprise and horror but the words the now wounded assailant yelled were clear as a bell across the room.
"Death to the Bastard Queen!"
As everyone in the room was fully aware that Persephone was in no way illegitimate, all within hearing distance were able to understand that the man simply meant that to ascension to the title would involve an illegitimate claim based on her gender.
Persephone frowned, but her years of training came to her rescue and she showed no other outward signs of horror as she tugged her sister and Lady Iris behind her and rose to her full height. She swallowed to ensure her voice did not tremble.
"Arrest him, Vilmar." She commanded without hesitation, as the other guards in the room swarmed into the crowds and appeared as if by magic to surround the foolish man who had made an attempt against her in her own throne room...
The confirmation from the princess of being able to meet with her seemed to please Iris. She had never requested the company of the princess, but their correspondences had created a need for a meeting. It wasn't something that Iris could continue to push off until another time. The conversation she needed to have with the princess wasn't one that she could simply sit back and let fester.
Unfortunately, Iris didn't even have a moment to respond to the affirmation of an invitation. Everything moved so fast. One moment they were having a discussion, and then Vilmar... he was pulling his sword. It was then that Iris went on high alert. Silently, she cursed the fact that this was court. Carrying her small blade wasn't allowed, as her father had found need to tell her at every avenue.
Old habits of running through forests like a wild dog still clung to her. Even years after she had taken to court instead of underfoot of the Foxlights.
Acutely aware of the movements the princess took, she found herself grabbed by Persephone, who quickly put herself in front of both Iris and Princess Emilia. Instinctively, Iris remained behind Persephone, knowing better than to protest the movement. Were Iris not better behaved, she would have hissed venom at the assailant. Instead, she took Princess Emilia's arm, moving the younger woman to remain behind her.
And she kept her there, using herself to shield the Princess. The mask of calm that the courtier had usually worn twisted into one of fire and rage, as if she'd rather have been in Vilmar's position. As if she wished she were the one holding the blade that had wounded the assailant. Taking a slight step back, she glanced back toward Emilia.
"I'm sorry, your highness," she whispered softly, "But please stay close."
Then the woman's gaze flicked to Vilmar, breathing in slowly. His demeanor was entirely different from the morning before. Where they had settled down at the temple and played that game on the marble floors. Gone was the man who had spoken of serving his family. The man who spoke of each one as if they were the only true lights in his life. The man who had shown genuine interest in Iris and her own family.
The man who had sounded irritable at the very thought that Iris might be in the city for the means of courting.
Lifting her chin, Iris remained still, trying to keep Emilia as close as possible, not pulling her gaze from Vilmar's form. Or the form of the assailant, for that matter.
In a way, Emilia was always amused when noble ladies and men bowed respectfully to her. It was a right she had been born with, so she was understandably used to it. She merely dipped her head in a respectful response after exchanging the look with Persephone and easily picking up on what her sister silently told her - to ignore the rumors, as a dignified royal would do. As a princess, it would not do for them to believe in hearsay or rumors. It would make them seem as if they were biased and unable to make decisions from a neutral standpoint, which was a deathwish for a royal. While she had not perfected the art as Persephone had, Emilia worked hard to do so.
As she was wont to do upon formal conversations, the young girl shrunk to remain in the background as Persephone spoke, nodding to Lady Iris as her gaze turned to her, but keeping her words to herself.
Her eyes flickered across the ballroom, thoughtlessly taking in the attendees and the various conversations floating across the ballroom, like a sponge absorbing information. Emilia learned best while watching, which was the reason why she had no joy in listening to a tutor or practicing her writing in a library - she was a horrible student, really.
Distracted as she was, she had not even noticed her sister's bodyguard surging forward until the sound of metal against metal brought a chill to her spine. Emilia had immediately tensed, a flash of metal crashing and the cry of dying horses making her go pale. It was bad form to freeze, but it was the princess's natural reaction upon danger - which was what she had done, and would've remained in a vulnerable spot had her sister not grabbed her.
Like a ragdoll, Emilia went where she was tugged, her small body easily manoevred. The young princess soon found herself standing behind Lady Iris, her small form looking even smaller now. Her hands shook behind her chiton - ever since her return from Taengea, Emilia had been a tad more skittish then usual. It was getting better, but that didn't mean she wouldn't shy like a scared forest animal in such situations. Her only other outward reaction was to seek out Persephone and ensured her sister remained safe - a fact that she realized she did not have to worry given the deft skills of Vilmar as her bodyguard.
Getting her grandfather out of bed that morning had been one of the hardest times in the last few years, since the last slaves had been sold. He had had a bad night, going through most of what was left of their wine. Kalypso had entered his chambers to find it a graveyard of empty bottles and shattered glass. And of course, Lord Keteus still had a half-full bottle in his hand, snoring away. The young woman cringed from the smell of it all, but managed to drag the old man out of his stained bed and bathe and dress him.
He fought the entire way, of course, complaining of headaches, of aching joints, of his war wounds bothering him, and seemed to confuse Kalypso with her mother frequently, calling her 'Renalia', regaling her with the awful dream he had woken from. Of course, she was not Renalia. Her mother had been dead for twenty years, but people had always praised Kalypso as being the spitting image of the woman, and her grandfather sometimes had trouble discerning which woman his granddaughter was.
They had to go to court, that day. Her grandfather was Lord of House Raptis, after all, and tomorrow was the Feast of Sinners. It was an important day, and it already looked like they were going to be very late. Oh, well. People would snicker, and correctly assume it was because Keteus had been far too drunk to get out of bed on time. The young woman was used to that, by now. You had to be blind not to see that her grandfather was a joke in the Athenian court. But she had to believe that someone out there still respected the name of Raptis, for that was all she had in this world. She had her grandfather, and her name.
Far later than most others, she escorted her grandfather into court, surrounded with people, the old man stumbling on her arm. She took a deep breath, already knowing this was going to be a very difficult day. She was surrounded by the most beautiful women in Athenia, the most powerful women in Athenia. She swallowed a mouthful of dry air, averting her eyes from everyone around her, trying to keep those sick thoughts out of her mind. So focused on not staring at the women was she, she did not notice when her grandfather slipped out of her grip to stumble around on his own, neither did she notice the other young woman until she bumped into her.
Kalypso flushed furiously, stumbling over her words in apology, trying to smooth her poor and muted dress, her eyes examining this woman. She was far more beautiful than Kalypso, that was for sure. She didn't know the other woman, but of course she wasn't exactly politically active, either, so she didn't know anything about anyone, really.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to bump into you, are you alright? I hope I didn't harm you!"
Emilia’s tendency to freeze up when there was a problem, even before the events in Taengea. Luckily the young princess was small enough that all of the men who protected her had no trouble picking her up and moving her out of harm’s way when need be. But given his immense size, it was easier still for Nic, as he had that day in the arena when he’d needed to get her to safety
It was then that Nicholai returned from his quick trip out to relieve himself to find chaos had erupted during his brief absence. As he neared the main room he could hear the Panic from within and hastened his steps, rushing through the door Nic stopped just inside and scanned the room.
He spotted his charge’s small form behind that of the lady Iris and the princess Persephone standing over where Vilmar was, a naked blade in his hand. Cursing under his breath, Nic rushed forward putting his body between Emilia, her sister, Dawn and the Lady Iris. He drew his sword planting himself so that no one could hurt Emilia or his wife, even as the other guards finally managed to force their way through the crowds and his side.
Then he turned to the princess and his wife, sharp eyes raking quickly over them both, before looking at the third lady who’d been sheltered behind him after his return to the room. “Are you alright?” He demanded, facing Emilia, though his gaze flickered to Dawn, heart in his eyes.
Vilmar observed as the blade came forward and formed a long red gash along the chest of his opponent. His body surged with rage as the sword came forward nearly taking the man off by the head. The assassin stumbled back and fell to the ground. His hands were gripping his chest wound. Vilmar's muscles flexed as he rapidly approached the assailant. His fingers tightened around the hilt of the sword. One hand steadied his aim as he heard the words of Persephone.
The bodyguard paused for a moment as the words shook him from his fury. He was a warrior, but he had the training of a soldier. Vilmar might have given in to the rush of violence, but he was not one to disobey her order. He looked at his opponent on the ground before him. Vilmar used his sword to parry a clumsy strike by the assassin. He brought his fist forward against the man instead of his sword.
Similar to the first time he had met the princess his fist pounded into his opponents face. It bashed against bone and flesh until he felt the nose crack and break. When the assassin fell back in agony and dropped his sword, Vilmar knew he had won. He let out a heavy breath as his shoulders heaved with anticipation. He slowly stood back up to his full height as he held a sword at the man's throat just in case. Vilmar nodded to two other soldiers to carry the man away. His fate would be decided another day.
Vilmar turned to the princesses.
"We should get you and your sister to safety. He may not have been alone."
Vilmar was not familiar with royal assassinations, but he did not like the idea of taking a chance. He had witnessed his share of ambushes in his time among the city guard. They often happened after one thought the main attack had failed. In this instance, they had the advantage of numbers and skill, but those advantages could be negated with a proper surprise attack. He knew the future Queen wanted to offer a full festive event, but that could wait. There would be other ceremonial events to celebrate the occasion. It would prove a misfortune to continue the celebration after the turn of events.
Vilmar turned to the other guards and glanced at the guests. His gaze briefly paused on Iris. He then turned his attention back to his duty. He could not let his heart wander too far in such a dangerous situation. He continued to offer his advice to Princess Persephone.
"I recommend we move the royal family to their quarters. The other nobles we can move to the royal wing of the palace."
If anyone else was present who was not noble, they could remain for the other guards to question. His main concern was on the nobility and the royal family. The Princess could stay with her sister if she wanted, but they needed to leave the scene for the time being. The other nobles would be safe enough if the Royal Wing, and Vilmar still did not know who he could trust among them. He did not like the thought of separating from Iris, but there was no choice in this situation. He could not be seen showing favoritism to a single noble with so many nobles present.
Vilmar's blue eyes wandered over to Princess Persephone as he awaited her instruction. He had offered his counsel, but the choice was her's alone. He would do as she commanded.
As the assailant was beaten to the ground by her guardsman, Persephone used all her self control to keep her features calm and unafraid. Despite the fact that the whole event and attempt on her life was a shock to the system. While, logically, she knew to expect such aggression and anger towards a change in the law and history of the land, she had yet to personally experience anything of the sort. But it was growing closer to the Senate meet now... and such reactions would be bubbling up all over the place, if not in her company than certainly in the minds of certain facets of her citizens.
When Vilmar had the man at sword point and offered her advise on how to proceed, Persephone kept her head still but the shake of it was in her words.
"There is point in holding people to the palace. There are too many nobles here, too many retainers. It would only make us look like we were scrambling. Make Xanthos appear weak..." Her voice was low so that only Vilmar and Nicholai - the two closest to her - would be able to hear her.
Taking a breath, Persephone did the opposite and stepped forwards towards the crowds. With a smile she held up her arms.
"Apologies for the interruption, ladies and gentleman." She told them with a light and easy tone that carried around the now silent room. "It would appear my security needs tightening..." There was a small ripple of awkward amusement throughout the crowd and Persephone felt the people start to calm, the atmosphere becoming less tense.
"I'm afraid, for everyone's safety I am forced to offer my apologies that this session of Court will be ending sooner than planned. We're forced to look forward to seeing each other again tomorrow at the festivities."
Her words were not explicit in her instructions but her tone was clearly a dismissal. With a glance towards the guards at the door, Persephone watched as the noble ladies and their husbands closest to the exits were encouraging by the men in Xanthos uniform to leave the room first, leading to the evacuation of the great hall.
"Lock him up." Persephone then said, turning her gaze sharply to the man who had tried to kill her. "Have Captain Diomedes find out if he was alone or had help." She told Vilmar. "And do it quickly... I'll not have him bleeding on my floor."
Persephone just hoped that her tone was firm and commanding enough that no-one would notice the slight tremor in her fingers...
Rafail raised an eyebrow, not exactly sure how much offence he should have been taking by the Princess's words, not to mention the way she had so rudely turned away from him. He was a royal lord; this man was a mere noble. A noble who was polite enough to comment on his date's beauty and had an appropriate amount of training in etiquette but a noble nonetheless. Rafail would have been about to say something further as though to return attention to himself when, quite suddenly, Princess Persephone appeared to decide that she would much rather be speaking to Lady Iris. The same Lady Iris with which he had had such a difficult time in Aetaea only recently (although the rumours he had heard throughout the court that day were doing wonders for his reputation). Despite her impoliteness, he offered her a smile that some might read as condescending - really, precisely as it had been intended - and bowed his head gently to bid her farewell.
With no one with which to distract himself now, Rafail turned his attention fully onto Althaia, briefly glancing over her head to ensure that nobody was watching the pair of them. He would not deny feeling insulted and when in such an irritable mood, few things entertained him. Luckily, the woman on his arm could provide him with just that.
"Come, Althaia," he told her, pulling her away from the main crowd and to a corner where they could be less easily seen by prying eyes, and he could push her against a wall and press his lips against hers. He was half leaning in, ignoring her embarrassed giggles and ready to kiss her when a scream pierced the air. Instinctively, he turned to see what was going on, assuming it couldn't be anything more than some idiotic woman having spilt wine on her chiton. He could not have been more incorrect.
A multitude of people was rushing from the main hall as though in an attempt to escape something or other. Grabbing a passing servant by the arm, he questioned the people's actions and, upon hearing the news, was silent for a moment in general shock as the man ran back away. Rafail would not have thought any assassin would have been stupid enough to launch an attack on a princess in such a public area. Then, all of a sudden, the reality of the situation hit him and, instinctively, he tightened his grip on Althaia's arm, protectively holding himself in front of her lest she too somehow was attacked. There was a part of him which monetarily considered helping the others in the court find their way to safety but, ultimately, selfishness won out.
Women were slow, and Rafail did not plan to put himself into danger because his date could not move fast enough. It was a panicked few moments as he scooped her into his arms, holding her bridal style - something she appeared to find much more romantic than he had intended it - and carrying her hurriedly out of the room. Never let it be said he couldn't be at least a little brave when it came to his self-interests.
While waiting for a response, Danae felt someone bump into her. Already frustrated from the night’s events, Danae silently turned on her heels and came face to face with the offender. Truthfully she had little patience this evening and she would love nothing more than to take her anger out on this girl. Alas, she couldn’t. Danae recognized her as a member of the House of Raptis, a vassal to her family. It would not be in good spirit to insult the house’s only heir. “I’m fine, but you should watch where you are going.” She said in a condescending tone, with her eyebrows raised slightly, The only outward signs she would show of her anger fueled by the insecurities bubbling beneath the surface.
Then before she could say more, the hall erupted into chaos. Turning around to face the source of all the chaos, Danae was only able to see a cluster of people around the princess. The number of courtiers and retainers between her and Persephone blocked her view of the specific details of what was happening, which was a good thing. If Danae had actually seen the events that had just transpired, she would not have been able to supress a self-righteous smile at the sight of the ever-so-confident brat having the rug pulled out from underneath her. It serves them right, they couldn’t possibly expect everything to be so carefree and joyful as they uphended the social order of Athenia. No, if they wanted to ruin everything her family had ever done, just so some stupid girl can be queen, there would need to remember that the seas would be treacherous.
There would be no smooth sailing for the swans this time.
Though, to be frank and clear, she may have found some sort of sick and twisted joy in the Xanthos family’s misfortunes, Danae of Stravos was not the one who ordered the attack. Nor was she aware of who did. She just silently approved of their actions from afar. A dead Xanthos princess made their family’s goal easier and it brought Danae personally one step closer to seeing HER bloodline on the throne. If the succession law remained intact and Alehandros, as well as Elias, met unfortunate ends after Danae had a son of her own… why that boy would be second or even first in line for the throne. Not thirteenth or god knows how far back if the Xanthos girls got their way. That alone erased any fondness she might have had left for the pair of vapid fools who had no business being anywhere near the crown. If there had been any to begin with.
When the call for everyone to leave went out, Danae turned to the young woman she had been speaking with thus far and said in simple, formal, and oddly calm tone, “Lady Kalyspo, it appears our evening has been cut short. My father has informed me previously that we should expect to see you and your grandfather at our manor in a few day’s time. We can chat then.”
With that, the guards began to move everyone towards the doors and Danae wormed her way into the crowd, eager to find the two older women she had arrived with. As the throng of people was so thick and dense, she was not able to find them until she was outside. Her mother and sister were already calling for the liter. For a moment a twinge of doubt wormed its way into her mind. Were they really about to leave without me? However, they were temporarily abated when Circenia caught sight of her daughter and motioned over to her, wrapping her arms around Danae for a brief hug. “There you are.” No mentions of being worried sick. No questions about her well-being. Just a general statement as to her arrival as if she had wandered off and hadn’t been left to flounder on her own by this woman.
Danae didn’t say anything in response, she knew better than that. Instead, she stood in stony silence as Chara and Circenia continued their conversation as they waited for their ride home to arrive. It was almost as if the young girl wasn’t even there.
Once they had spotted their transportation, Danae overheard her mother say something that spurned her anger to the point where it just had to break through. “Ugh those poor girls. To think, an attacker at your own event and in front of her sister too! Oh, I don’t know what I would do-”
“They deserved it.” Danae angrily spit out, safely away from prying ears. Circenia narrowed her eyes at her outspoken daughter as Danae continued, “They deserved that and everything else that is coming to them.”
Still hurt from her mother’s abandonment earlier, she found the momentary courage to finish by saying, “And don’t you say you don’t think the same way.”
They were Stravoses. There was no love from the Anchor to the Swan. Not anymore
Her personal bodyguard's voice was a welcomed relief. Only when she heard Nicholai's voice, did the young princess finally pry her eyes open, and nodded at Nicholai's question. The blood was quick to return to her face when she saw the bulky form of the foreign man who had served as her familiar for so long - Emilia had always felt safe when Nicholai was nearby.
Bolstered by his presence, her hazel irises now looked up to where her sister was, faintly noticing the furor that the ballroom was now in as the guards came to subdue the attacker. Behind Nicholai's broad frame, Emilia caught the words of her sister, like a sponge in taking in the way Persephone made decisions, as she always did. Learning best through observation, there was a reason why Emilia failed so absymally in the classroom with her tutors.
Once the instructions were given, and Persephone had stepped back again, Emilia turned to Iris who now stood by her side, and gave a small dip of her head towards the noble lady in a respectful manner, a small, grateful smile upon her lips. "I thank you greatly for your help today, Lady Iris. Please do not hesitate in getting one of our guards to escort you out, and I do hope to visit your barony one day along with my sister. My apologies for cutting our conversation short, but I do have to see to my sister." she murmured, in a tone that was genuinely apologetic.
Nudging past Nicholai, she briefly glanced through the crowd, and motioned at Dawn to bring Selene back to their quarters, before turning her soft brown eyes to Persephone, and taking her sister's hand. Sharp as she was to how her only sibling was when she was in proximity, Emilia could tell the slight tremor as she held the elder one's hands in her own, and tightened her grasp, looking towards Nicholai. "Escort us back to our chambers, Nicholai, if you would please." the young one addressed her guard firmly, trusting the other guard of her sister's to deal with the attacker, as she tugged at Persephone to leave the ballroom. They have had enough going on for the time being, and she had no wish to lose her sister, when she was already on the verge of losing her father.